


Lessons in the Chant

by covertCalligrapher



Series: Cherry Wine [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, it's all porn like holy SHIT, ooooh boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covertCalligrapher/pseuds/covertCalligrapher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up in the Chantry usually leaves many with fantasies grown during their more formative years. The Commander is no different, and the Inquisitor is happy to indulge him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in the Chant

**Author's Note:**

> this is ridiculous

"Inquisitor, one of the maids informed me that they found a Chantry robe in your armoire," Josephine stated smoothly during their private meeting. "She inquired as to whether or not it was a missing one and should be returned."

Clara cleared her throat, skin reddening frightfully quickly as embarrassment burned through her. "No," she said quickly, scrawling on the paper in front of her. "It's mine."

"It's yours?" Josie asked, voice coy.

Clara stopped writing, still looking down as she tried to think if a way to phrase it. "Cullen gave it to me," she settled on.

Josephine gave a short laugh. "Does he ask you to put on?"

"To some effect," she muttered, uncomfortable and embarrassed.

"And you do it?" she asked incredulously.

Clara put the pen down, perhaps with just a bit too much force. "It makes him happy."

“And you?”

Clara looked at her for a moment, at Josephine’s clever eyes and the mischievous hint in them. Oh, how despicable a woman she was. “He agreed to do my Grey Warden one,” she blurted instead of _Shove off!_

Josie smiled, wide and knowing. “Grey Warden?”

“Oh, no,” Clara snapped quickly. “No, no no no no. _No._ I’m not discussing this with anyone.”

“The maids are all going to be asking what the Inquisitor was doing with a Chantry outfit in her closet.”

“Tell them I’m trying to get closer as the Herald,” she replied shortly, looking down at what she had been writing. “Every maid in Skyhold better not find out about this come nightfall, Josie, or I’m going to--”

“Relax, Inquisitor,” Josephine cut in absently, going back to her paperwork. “I only asked the washers to clean it and send it back.”

“Well, I’ll be needing it back soon,” Clara muttered. “I’m seeing him tonight.”

* * *

 

The air in his loft was dark, cut through with light dust moats that glittered in the moonlight and shivering candle flames. Incense burned thickly, purely there to set the mood. It was a different kind than the Free Marches used, something Clara was thankful for. It was a Ferelden type, something thick and smoky that made her eyes water as opposed to the light ones from Ostwick. The Chantry robe was different, too, one of the short Orlesian ones with black leggings and soft slippers. They were all part of the costume, though she had declined wearing the hat. It was ridiculous, the entire _fantasy_ of his was ridiculous, but she played along because as weird as it felt looking at it, actually _doing_ it with him was five different kinds of amazing.

Cullen sat in a small chair, clothing simple and roughspun. Under her robe she could feel the weight of his coin as it dangled on the chain between her breasts. It wasn’t part of the costume, but he hadn’t said _not_ to wear it. The item gave her more comfort than she liked to tell him, anyway, so she wore it for confidence.

“The Revered Mother has informed me that you haven’t made much progress in memorizing the Chant,” Clara said airly, pacing in front of the long desk they had managed to drag up into Cullen’s loft.

He was looking up at her from his seat, face flushed and hair an endearing mess. His eyes followed her as she passed by him, gaze hot and lingering. “I haven’t--” he started but she cut him off with a swift smack to the desk.

“I’m not interested in excuses, I want to know why you think it’s okay to shirk your responsibility to the Maker.” She stopped pacing and turned to face him, looking at him as he sat at one head of the desk.

Those lovely eyes met hers for a moment before he looked down in feigned embarrassment. She considered him for a moment, shaking off the awkwardness of his little game and then sighed. "I'll test how well you know it."

She pulled the desk away from him and came up between it and him.

“Start from the first in Andraste, verse eleven,” she said brusquely, hopping up in the desk in front of him and crossing her legs. He was a good deal lower down than she was, his hands fisting and relaxing in the linen of his pants. He looked at her witheringly for a moment before taking a deep breath and starting.

“ _And there I saw the Black City,”_ he started, face turning pensive like it always did when he prayed. “ _Its towers forever stain'd, Its gates forever shut.”_

His voice was a deep rumble, the low timber resonating through her chest. She swallowed thickly and looked behind him, at the small pot of incense burning and the long tallow candles flickering. The air felt distinctly heavy with them, weighed down by the smooth sound of Cullen’s voice and the excitement in her limbs.

 _“Heaven has been filled with--”_ he started, stopping abruptly when she uncrossed her legs and inched back on the desk. He swallowed and flicked his eyes up to hers. _“Silence,”_ he murmured, voice tapering out.

The moment was sharp and electric, his eyes hungry because he _knew_ what was coming next, had told her and done this same part so many times with some variation. Her gaze met his, those lovely lips of his parting as his tongue darted out to lick them. She took a second to take it in, the brightness of his eyes, the flush on his cheeks, the way her gut clenched almost painfully in wonderful anticipation.

“I didn’t say you could stop,” she said, tilting her head up and looking down at him over her nose.

He huffed but still looked away. “ _I knew then, And cross'd my heart with shame,”_ he said, finishing the verse. The words weren’t as focused as they usually were, his mind clearly wandering ahead of him. She took a deep breath and had a private smile; as ridiculous as his fantasy seemed outside his warm little room, _inside_ it it felt like she was burning up.

She spread her legs apart a bit more, making sure he noticed, before one of her hands left their place supporting her on the desk and slipped between her thighs. A soft noise escaped her as she pressed her fingers to herself over the black leggings, heart speeding up as she felt her arousal spike. Her eyes slid shut as she moved her fingers in slow circles, excitement picking up as her body reacted to her soft touches.

He groaned, low in his chest and her eyes opened. He was back to staring at her, mouth open slightly and breathing heavy. His hands fisted in his pants again, restraint shining through as he resisted mirroring her hands. She could see he was already hard, body reacting so _easily_ and she hadn’t even touched him yet. That rush of power sunk into her limbs, pulled and made her sigh as she pressed her fingers against the top of her sex.

“Transfigurations 1,” she commanded, eyes sliding shut again. “From the beginning, and don’t stop.”

 _“Clara,”_ he said, voice a whine.

“I’m not Clara right now,” she replied, gasping lightly as her fingers pressed against a particularly sensitive spot.

He groaned, the sound significantly more strained than it had been before, but he started up again. _“These truths the Maker has revealed to me: As there is but one world,”_ he said. His voice cracked when she let out a particularly loud moan, but he pressed on. _“One life, one death, there is But one god, and He is our Maker.”_

The friction on her skin was so _good_ , a burn that settled in her gut, pressed her one along with the roughness of his voice, the way his breath hitched as she touched herself. It was getting warmer under the chantry smock, a few beads of sweat forming between her breasts as she ground her hips into her hand. The barrier of her leggings stopped anything from really happening, the frustration a good sort as she made those soft sounds she _knew_ drove him wild.

Still though, he went on, voice a low register that resonated through her chest.

 _“They are sinners, who have given their love,”_ he said quietly, voice rough. He gave a small pause, cleared his throat, and finished the verse. _“To false gods.”_

She bit her lip and scrunched her face, leaning back a bit more on the desk as she slid her hand into her leggings. Her fingers pressed gingerly at first, moaning as she pictured him, his own thick fingers and the way he was always so gentle with her until he _wasn’t_. He was all warm hands and beautiful eyes and he felt _amazing_ with his rough fingers and lovely mouth.

He’d stopped talking, the dull whispering of the candles cut with his ragged breathing. She opened her eyes, sliding two fingers all the way into herself with a gasp as she saw him. He was leaned forward in the chair a few stray curls hanging down on his forehead while his gaze burned into her. Those lovely golden eyes were blown wide, lust and need written heavily in the lines of his face, in the shean sweat that she could see glistening in the orange light.

“Why’d you stop?” she murmured, curling her fingers as she ground against her hand. Her eyes rolled shut momentarily as she pictured _him_ , all broad chest and skin dusted with golden hair, moaning softly as she clenched around her fingers.

He just looked at her pleadingly, eyes practically begging her for some sort of touch.

She sighed, pulling her fingers out of herself as she wiggled closer to the edge of the table. “You never get as far as you want.”

He opened his mouth to speak, failed to make any sound, cleared his throat, and tried again. “I’m weak.”

“When it comes to Chantry sisters having themselves off in front of you?” she asked, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she tried to ease the tension in her gut.

“No,” he said quietly, hands unfisting from his pants and smoothing over the fabric. “Just you.”

She looked at him fondly for a moment, her hand reaching forward and running through his hair. His eyes closed and he grinned softly as he leaned into her momentary touch. It was just for a second, a piece of indulgence for how hard she felt for him. Then she brought her hand away with a sigh.

“If you won't continue the Chant, you’ll have to do something else with your mouth,” she said. Her tone was brusque and commanding but it took more self restraint than she had thought it would to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the line. “On your knees.”

The resounding _thud_ of his knees hitting the hardwood floor vibrated in the hazy air. Those huge hands were on her hips then, rough as he tugged her leggings away. The piece fell to the floor along with her slippers, the light sound drowned out by the absolutely _wanton_ moan that ripped out of him as he looked at her.

He just sat there breathing for a moment, eyes fixated at the apex of her thighs before his hands slid up her legs to hook her knees over his shoulders. His breath was warm against her skin when he leaned in, mouth eager as he pressed wet kisses along the inside of her thighs before he finally reached her center.

She cried out when he pressed his lips to her, her head falling back, hair coming loose from its bun as she gave into the sensation of it all. Her shoulders hit the desk, then the back of her skull as she arched her back, his stubble rubbing her the soft skin on the inside of her legs raw. It was _wonderful_ , that beautiful mouth of his hard against her as she rocked her hips into his face. He kissed along her, tongue _wonderful_ as he dragged the flat of it through her, pressure just right. Every touch he gave her had her moaning, loud things that were all she could hear as they mixed with the frantic pounding of her heart.

His own moans resonated through her, vibrated just under her skin enough to drive her mad. He was too clever with this, knew just how to touch her to make her writhe under his hands. Two of his fingers slid into her, her body clenching around them as she panted, mind too scattered to focus on anything other than him just _touching_ her. It was hot like fire, the lyrium under his skin burning and familiar and _almost_ too much. The buzz of him as he moaned into her, just as far gone as she was and too turned on to think, the slick way his fingers curled inside of her so easily, it was all _too much._

The arch of her back tightened as she rolled her hips into him again, gut clenching and she came _hard_. Stars blinked in her vision as she grabbed his hair and tugged, holding him there as she rocked against him, body drawn almost painfully tight and loosening as she rode it out. It was long, drawn out as he still worked her over-sensitive flesh until she pulled his head away, everything too much so soon after climax.

Panting, she took one of her hands out of his hair and rubbed away a few of the tears that had managed to squeeze out and glanced down at him. He was looking back at her over the length of her body, expression so explicitly _needy_ she took pity on him instantly.

“C’mon,” she murmured, carefully getting off the desk. Her legs felt insubstantial, but they still held.

She smoothed her hand over the wooden surface and he seemed to get the message. Almost falling over, he pulled his shirt over his head and his pants down, climbing eagerly to lie flat on the desk as she followed. His body stretched out under her as she sat on his thighs. His hands had a hard grip on the edges of the desk, knuckles white and grasp only tightening as she wrapped her hands around his erection. He hissed at the contact, thick and painfully hard in her hands and she felt herself clench,  _aching_  in anticipation of him being inside of her. That was her favorite part, the wonderful burn as he stretched her perfectly when she rocked herself against him.

Her hand was gentle as she squeezed him before positioning him under her. She slid herself along his length, a soft noise slipping from her while his sudden moan was so _loud_. He caught on her entrance before she rocked her hips again, sliding away along the length of her. The slickness of the motion pulled another sound from him as he grabbed her hips and held her almost painfully.

She stopped moving and he _broke_ , chest heaving as he panted. _“Please,”_ he groaned, eyes meeting hers as his fingers flexed, nails biting into her skin.

Her heart moved for him, pity and exhilaration at the success coursing through her as she starting sliding down him.

She took him in slowly, sinking down so he pressed her just enough and then came back up. He made a noise that sounded startlingly like a whine, but she let him have this. He came apart easily when she was on top.

Pressing back down again, she stopped just shy of taking him inside completely. It wasn't just to give herself time to adjust, she was _more_ than ready. It was the want to draw it out for him just a bit more, get him just desperate enough to hold her still as he thrust himself into her. As much as she loved going slowly with him, there was nothing like the feeling of him taking her roughly, the slick slide of their bodies with his skin searing right to her, everything so razor sharp.

Finally, she rose up until he was just inside of her and then came back down fast, a harsh moan pulling out of them both as she revelled in the almost painful tightness of it and he tried to hold himself together as her body clenched and rippled around him.

She cursed quietly, taken off guard by how _good_ it was. This part never got old, even with a Chantry robe rucked up to her hips and sticking to her with sweat.

Slowly, she started rocking her hips. The grip his hands had didn't allow for much movement, but she made do. Going slowly might drive her up the wall, make her skin too tight but it absolutely ruined him. He panted through it all, eyes shut and head arched back. She wanted to mirror it but he looked too wonderful like this, body bent and scarred skin flushed for her.

She rode him a bit faster, her breasts scratching against the inside of the robe. For what felt like the first time that night, she felt the restrictiveness of the garment. It clung too tightly, rasping against her nipples until they were too sensitive and almost painfully tight.

She chewed her lip for a moment, groaning as the rough fabric rubbed against her. It only took a second for her to decide pulling it off would be best, toss that last piece of clothing and fantasy aside. Tugging it over her head, she shivered slightly as the air hit her overheated skin. It emboldened her, had her bracing her hands on his chest as she rode him faster, _harder_ , pulled as much as she could from him.

She looked down and saw him staring up at her chest, eyes fixated on where her breasts were bouncing each time she slid herself on him. Her skin burned brightly despite herself, a heavy red spreading out over the flush already there. The hands on her hips squeezed her even harder, fingers nearly bruising as she ground herself down on him, his eyes flicking to her face.

She bit her lip as she stared back, the feeling of him inside her as she rocked slowly breaking that thin persona of the strict novice. His eyes were warm and her chest tightened, a small gasp pulled itself out as he gave a shallow thrust up to meet her, her hips speeding up as she chased the sensation. The wonderful friction of it gave him a small moment for one hand to slide up her stomach and hook a finger through the chain dangling between her breasts. His coin at the end winked in the flickering candlelight.

She slowed her pace as she blushed again at the question in his face: _this wasn't a part of it._

"Not all of it's a costume, love," she breathed. He groaned in the back of his throat, hand returning to her hips where they were supposed to be.

She breathed in sharply as she rocked harder, slipping back into his game as she rode him. The light sound of the chain jingling was background noise to the lyrium thrum in the air and the burning need to finish. It felt like she was tighter than a bowstring, the muscles of her thighs shaking as she ground herself on him more harshly. He was so  _thick_ inside of her, hard and throbbing. Her voice felt muffled in her ears, drowned out and hollow and _Maker_ , did he feel wonderful sliding roughly into her.

A soft noise slipped out of her, a whimper that would've made her feel pathetic had she been in a different state of mind. She was so _close_ again, body still tender after her previous climax and she was so desperate to come. It was an itch in her skin, a burning need that had her whimpering again for him, for how he felt inside of her, how she would never get enough of how he was almost unbearably thick while she was clenching so tightly around him.

His hands tightened again, one moving between their bodies to press his thumb against her sex. She gasped, looking down at him. He was staring where their bodies met, mouth open and eyes fixated where he was sliding inside of her, her body clenching again as he watched his hips thrust himself into her. His skin was shining with sweat, the hair on his chest damp from it as she ran her fingers through it. Her nails left light red trails and she had to bite her lip to stifle the  _sound_ the sight of it dragged out of her.

He murmured something that she couldn't hear, voice rough, but she could feel how close he was, felt the way he was twitching inside of her. There wasn't any way he couldn't tell she was too, she was almost _there_ , one final push away but she needed something _extra_. Something more than the hard, frustrating grind of their bodies or the overwhelming fullness of him inside of her or the rough sounds he made for her that filled the air.

She squeezed herself tightly around him, sensitive and desperate for them both to come and blessedly he _did_. It was that last thing she needed, one final push of his hips as he came inside of her. It was pure heat, her body tight as she rippled around him and her vision spotted and blurred. Dimly, she heard herself cry out as she came with him, a few tears slipping out from the intensity of it, but she was still rocking her hips, trying hard for just a bit more even as his hands locked her in place.

Finally, she came back to herself and leaned down, sagging and leaning against him as she panted. His arms came up her sides and held her against him, his coin pressed warm and flat between their bodies. She made a small contented sound, smoothing her hands on the rough skin of his chest. The steady _whump_ of his heart beat thickly against her ear.

"Do you want to move to the bed?" she asked softly, eyes closing as they held each other.

"In a moment," he said, voice rough. His hands smoothed up her back again, sliding easy over her sweat-slicked skin. "I just have to... _collect_ myself."

Turning her head, she pressed a kiss over his heart with a grin, resting her ear back over it. "That was actually fun, though Josephine knowing takes something from it."

He groaned. "Tell me she didn't find the Grey Warden armor, too."

"No, but I might have let it slip," she said, the flush returning to her skin in embarrassment.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. "That would've been a bit harder to explain, I suppose."

"Not as hard as admitting to her that the Commander of the Inquisition liked it when I put on vestments and made him recite the Chant," she shot back.

He only chuckled, finger tracing lazy circles into her skin. "We don't have to do the Grey Warden one if you don't want to," he murmured softly.

She cleared her throat. "No, no I still want to, that's my favorite one, can we just..." She trailed off, searching for the words.

"Hide it better from Josephine?"

"Maker, _yes."_

**Author's Note:**

> and there it is. This felt so strange to write and it doesn't feel ridiculous enough for the actual scenario, but w/e. I probably didn't edit it enough and it's a monster. Take it, get it away from me.
> 
>  
> 
> [My writing tumblr](http://jellopunch.tumblr.com/)


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